Odd Meetings
by Irritable Insanity
Summary: Aragorn returns to Lord Elrond and his travelling companions after having met and spoken to the perorch Morangmacar.He tells his comrades of the meeting and is informed of a mysterious curse associated with the creature. Young Aragorn, Imladrim,, and OCs
1. Chapter 1

Morangmacar

Setting: This is a more canon character friendly shortfic, Tolkien's characters and only one OC. It is set when Aragorn is a young man, perhaps 21, so he knows who he is by now, but he's not the Dunedain chieftain yet. (2951, by my reading is when Elrond explained everything to him, and he became the chieftain of the Dunedain a few short years after that).

I also have Aragorn a little less skilled than he'll later be. The way I see it, he probably had a fair bit to learn about woodscraft, and though he'll later surpass all the other Rangers, I think it likely that he wasn't always the best at Ranger-ing.

Disclaimer: Don't own Lord of the Rings, never will, it all is Tolkien's. I am jes' playin' with it.

It was early evening in Eriador. The sun had started to dim and set, but there was still plenty of light for the little party to work by when they set up camp. It wasn't all that common for Lord Elrond to leave Imladris, he normally did so if only if there was a very good reason to travel, and this was one of those times.

Just a few days ago, Aragorn, son of Arathorn celebrated his twenty-first birthday. While the Elf Lord admitted that there any gift he could give the young man this year couldn't possibly rival what he gave him last year, when he revealed Estel's heritage and gave him two very fine old heirlooms.

Estel had been utterly awestruck by the news and gifts. To Elrond's eyes it seemed that the news at once overjoyed and overwhelmed him. To be an heir to a throne and a leader was an rare thing, but there was an awesome sense of responsibility tied to that as well. The man spent most of the day staring off into the distance with an odd half-smile on his face.

This year's gift was far more earthy: a hunting trip with Elrohir and Elladan, and Aragorn's cousin Halbarad, a man close to Estel's age who became fast friends with his future lord when they met a year ago. The hunting trip was nice enough, but Elrond sweetened it by coming along as well, though he demurred from joining the actual hunting. He hadn't handled a bow since Dagorlad, and he hadn't used it too well back then. He shuddered to think of how badly he would shoot if he did join the hunt.

Instead, he'd ended up staying in the camp, reading and drinking tea, and regaling the two young Dunedain with stories that Elrohir and Elladan had heard a hundred times before.

They traveled two or three days out of Rivendell, hunting along the way, and then came back a different way through a woodland, camping in the late afternoon so the hunters could set up camp and catch another chance at a deer before nightfall. This afternoon would be no different, or at least that was what the Elf lord thought.

To his surprise, Elrohir and Elladan pulled out a chess board and pieces from their packs and set it up on the ground. "Go on ahead, Halbarad, Estel. Elrohir and I have had our fill of the hunt for now, and I have to avenge last night's loss to my twin here before sunset." Elrohir moved his pawn forward

"Indeed." Elladan grinned. "Avenging your loss? Wasn't that what you said last night before we started that round?"

Halbarad and Estel took their swords, bows, and quivers, and cleared out of the camp before the twins started arguing in earnest. Elrond watched them go, and half-wished he could join them. Elladan and Elrohir were mature, seasoned warriors and valuable advisors, but they could still squabble like they were children over a few things. Unfortunately, chess was one of them.

Aragorn and Halbarad parted company just outside the camp. "I will see you at the camp, cousin. The one to pot the biggest stag gets his cleaned by the loser."

Halbarad grinned. "Aye, I like the sound of that, my lord, but I cannot help feeling a little guilty about making my future king skin out my kill. Don't get yourself lost in these woods, _aran nin._"

With that, the other man was gone, and Aragorn felt a twinge of jealousy. Elladan and Elrohir had trained him well in woodscraft, but Halbarad had spent his whole life in the wilds, and it showed.

He headed out his way into the woods, senses perked on high alert, eyes scanning for prey, and his step soft and slow. Running would frighten the prey, and may attract attention he didn't want.

There was something soothing about the woodlands here. There was a stillness that was unlike anything in Imladris, and the softest sound rang just loud enough for a trained ear to catch it. He could whisper of wind in the trees, the song of a little bird in the distance, and a very soft patter to his right. Hooves on the floor of the woods, just the sort of sound he'd being listening for.

He moved quietly towards it, his muscles tense, hands twitching in the excitement of the hunt. He turned when the creature moved, and kept stalking forward until he had it in sight. He moved past a big tree and froze.

There it was! It was one of the largest stags he'd seen on the trip, a big bodied beast with a magnificent set of horns and a gorgeous dark brown hide, and it was within bowshot and it hadn't seen him. Better still, the portion of the stag he'd always aimed for was in plain view.

He fitted an arrow to his string and slowly bent the bow, trying to make as little sound as possible. To his horror, the stag staggered, and a red, oddly barbed thing almost like a huge arrow head poked out just where he was aiming. The buck took a few steps, and fell dead.

That spear head...it was like nothing he'd ever seen Halbarad or any of the other Dunedain carry, nor was it Elven in design. The only time he'd seen anything like it was in a book about whalers off the coast of Eriador. They called that sort of spear a harpoon. What was a harpoon doing so far inland?

There was movement behind the dead stag. A very tall figure straightened from its throwing position and stepped forward into the little clearing, heading for the stag. It stopped halfway to the animal, and growled, looking about itself.

"Come out, _ta--_Ranger. I know ye're there, I can smell ye." The form threw its hood back, revealing harsh, weatherbeaten features. Its skin was a muddy brown, its forehead high.

Aragorn stared at it, a sick building in the pit of his stomach. The creature had a vaguely Orcish face, but there was also something man-like in it. It was undoubtedly a half breed, and the thought send a shudder of revulsion up and down his spine. Orcs were unnatural enough, but a half breed was even more perverse, because it meant some Orc had...

He shuddered again. He would not think about that. He wouldn't. He stepped out into the clearing and, eyes narrowed and a hand on his sword hilt. "You stole my stag, friend."

The half breed snorted. "Friend? Do'na lie to me, Ranger. You would'na call me friend and mean it, na' even if you parching to death in the plains of Morgai and I had the only cup'a water in all of the Black Land."

. "You are right, of course, but that doesn't change the fact that you are poaching. Your kind has little place in this world, and still less place in the old lands of my people."

He was close enough to see the creature's eyes now, odd green and red eyes that met his own orbs unflinchingly. "That may be, I do'na belong here, but I'm still here, and I need to eat. If ye want to fight over it, I suppose we could." A clawed hand reached over its shoulder to grab the hilt of a two handed sword, while another loosened the baldric so he could draw it.

Aragorn studied the creature again. He was of noble blood, of the line of kings, and strong of limb and quick of eye, but that litany didn't abate fact that his stomach was roiling again, this time from fear rather than disgust.

The beast was large, somewhat taller than him, taller than Lord Elrond, and massively built. The thing's hands were also huge, and Estel had the feeling that it could grab his head in one of them without too much difficulty.

None of Aragorn's titles and lineage could banish the fear in his gut, but the fear couldn't shake his resolve much either. He drew his longsword and stepped into his ready stance. "Agreed. Are you ready to die?"

The creature's lips twitched suddenly, and took his hand of the hilt of his weapon. "Today is your lucky day, 'friend.' Ye caught me at that rare time when fighting's the last thing I really want to do if I can help it.Even if I truly wanted to fight, I do'na think you'd be worth it much. When you're older maybe, but now you would'na last long, and there's no point in killing ye either. You and I both are'na fond of Orcs, and it'd make more sense to leave ye alive to thin them out."

He stepped back "Besides, I'd almost hate to best somone with spirit such as yours.You've a noble heart, Dunedan, but this deer is'na worth your life, or even mine. And before ye say it, yes, I know my life is na' worth much of anything." He stepped back. "I'll cut the spear out of it and let you have the body."

Aragorn kept his sword at the ready. This beast could be shamming, it might be waiting for him to drop his guard, but if it was unwilling to fight, then he saw no reason to push a conflict. He could always tell his Rangers to track it down later.

"You are a strange one, but keep your stag. I want nothing that Orc-steel's touched." The beast's shoulders stiffened, but the Dunedan forged on anyway. "I won't apologize for that, Man-Orc. It is the truth, and I'm not sorry to tell it. It would be a sorry thing for Aragorn, son of Arathorn to worry about what his enemies thought of him."

That brought a change in the creature's posture. Its eyes shot back from the stag to him. "Ye should'na be telling that to an enemy, Lord Aragorn, it'll just make them more eager to kill ye. But since ye gave me your name, I'll give you mine. I am Claideb, son of...well, that's na important now is it? The folk of Imladris call me the Morangmacar."

Morangmacar? Aragorn paused, torn between springing at the beast and looking for a way out of this mess. He forced a bravado into his voice that he didn't really feel and stepped forward.

"Morangmacar? That's all the more reason to end you. You're a threat to Imladris and..."

Morangmacar just snorted and pulled the harpoon out by its head, dragging the shaft through the deer and making an awful mess. "Try it, and ye'll be sorry, kingling. In fifty or sixty years, you might be a real caution, and I'd be a fool to na' step more softly around ye then. But that's the future, and this is now, and I'll box your ears if ye take another step. The deer's yours. Do with it what you will, I have no interest in being anywhere near your camp. Ye'll tell everyone that you saw me, and I'll be hunted seven ways from sunset if I stay here. No, I am heading out now."

He took the spear and darted off into the woods. Aragorn watched him go and stepped towards the stag. It was true that he wanted little to do with anything an Orc had killed, but, on the other hand, there was no point in leaving a beautiful trophy like this out to rot. Killing senselessly was an Orc's way, and if he could at least make some use of it, so much the better.

With a grunt, he hoisted it over his shoulders and staggered off through the woods back to camp. He was more than a little annoyed with himself for not doing the kingly thing, that he hadn't pursued and killed the beast, but at least this would make a good story at the campfire.

He would definitely tell Halbarad to send word to their people to start hunting for the beast. His cousin had a carrier pigeon in the camp, so they could have the news out soon enough. He shifted the weight on his shoulders and allowed himself a small smile. He may not have actually killed the deer, but he was certainly bringing a large one back to camp. There was a chance he could just win this bet.

**A/N:**

Mn. Young Aragorn is not the easiest character to write. I wanted to keep some elements of his nobility and courage in there while making this all believable. He's only twenty one, not in his eighties like in the trilogy, so he shouldn't be expected to be quite as brave or skilled as he is in the trilogy.

At the same time, there needs to be a hint of what he will become, and I hope I've done that properly. Halbarad isn't really easy to write either, but that's because we know so little about him. I would think he and Aragorn would be good friends, though, and they may have even had a friendly byplay to some extent.

Also, Aragorn isn't humorless, so I wanted to put something of that in, although there is little here for his sense of humor to work with. (Him being light-spirited around a Half-Orc would make 0 sense)

As for Morangmacar/Claideb: his size is an issue. Regular Orcs are smaller than men, but both his parents were large, one was a Black Numenorean (hence his character making sense mostly in an AU), and the other a very big Orc, and you have hybrid vigor on his side, so that could explain things.

He's a pretty violent character, but as he said, he has days where he's not as eager to kill.

Anyway, there we go.


	2. Stories and Questions

Stories and Questions

**An: okay, this the follow-up chapter for my formerly one-shot Odd Meetings. I think I may turn this into a series of sorts. **

Disclaimer: Don't own LOTR, that belongs to JRR Tolkien

It was sunset by the time Aragorn finally lugged the big stag into camp. Halbarad was already by the campfire,sitting cross-legged and sharpening a skinning knife. Elrohir and Elladan were still at the chessboard, and probably still playing the match they'd begun when he left camp. _Ada_ was lying on his back, eyes locked on the brilliant sunset.

The twins and the other Dunedan rose the minute the saw him enter the clearing, and clamored around him, slapping his back and admiring the stag, and talking a mile a minute about the animal.

"_Mae govannen, gwador_! Elrohir and I were getting worried, what with you staying out in the woods so late, but seeing the buck explains it all. Dragging such a beast to camp..." Elladan whistled, "you're getting stronger day by day."

"Aragorn!" Halbarad gripped the other man's forearm. "I see I lost our bet, but I'm glad of it. I really don't want you to remember me as the man who bested you in every competition when you regain your kingdom. I'd hate to see the sort of post you give me if that is all you remembered of your cousin."

"Wise words. If that was all he remembered of you, he may well make you the royal stable hand." Elrohir looked back down at the stag and stopped, his grin slipping a little. "That _is_ a magnificent stag, but that wound is...odd. That isn't an arrow-hole, and you aren't carrying a spear. What happened out there in the woods, _gwador?"_

Elrond was up now, surveying the hole with a critical eye. "Indeed, _ion_. What happened? I'd say you met someone out there. Whom?"

Aragorn nervously shifted his weight to his other leg. "You're all right. I didn't kill this stag, and I intended to let you all know that as soon as I could get a word in edgewise. The honor for this catch, such as it may be, goes to the poaching half-Orc named Morangmacar."

. "I see." Elrond quickly patted his adopted son's chest, back, and arms. "Did he hurt you? He'll rue it if he did."

Aragorn squirmed, a little frustrated. He was twenty-one, not eight, and he could take care of himelf, mostly. He didn't say that out loud though, and that was for two reasons. First, it was to some degree untrue. He could not handle every situation, he would admit that. Second, to say it would hurt _adar_, and that was something he could never bring himself to do.

"No, no, I'm well. The beast just killed the stag I was aiming at, and we exchanged words. Then he retrieved his harpoon from the deer and ran off."

"I see. Do you have aught else to say on this?"

Aragorn flushed nervously, and looked away from Elrond. He did not want to tell his father about what he'd almost done. "Yes, other than that I challenged him once...or twice."

Elrond's eyebrows rose sharply, and the twins gave their little brother incredulous stares. Halbarad was the only one who looked remotely approving of his cousin's actions, and that was more because he knew nothing of the Morangmacar to start with. Elladan caught his look and sighed.

"I'll fill you in, friend. It's not fair of us to be going on about things like this without explaining them. Morangmacar is a half-Orc who has gotten a taste for fighting Noldorin warriors. He prefers to attack the younger Noldorin, but will charge after any armed Elf who is roaming alone outside Imladris. He's not killed any of our people yet. Instead, he's let them go, staying his hand when he could have given a killing blow. While he's given wounds to some of our warriors, most walk away from the battle with little more than bruises from the flat of his sword. That makes me think he finds us "good sport"."

The disgust in Elladan's voice at that point was palpable, and he let Elrohir carry on with the explanation. "As long as he sticks to sparring with our people, we will see him as more an annoyance than a threat. And in a way, the brute's presence can be a little helpful. He may disrupt the peace of Imladris, but he gives our young soldiers a lesson in a way that none of the regular sergeants could. However, it's clear that he doesn't intend such help and so day he sorely injures one of the folk of Imladris is the day he signs his death warrant. Please, continue, Estel."

"Thank you, Elrohir. As _gwador _said, this beast is a wretched half-Orc, and he was poaching in my people's land, _adar!_ What was I supposed to do, leave him be? Let him wander freely through Arnor, doing whatever his black heart drives him to do? And don't forget that he has plagued Imladris for a half-century. I did what duty asked of me. We would have fought, but he declined my challenge both times."

Elrond coughed. "I see." He coughed again, keeping a great many things unsaid. "Is that truly all that Elrohir said? I'd say that Your _gwador_ said other things as well, to the end that there's no great purpose in picking at a scab. You are older now, Estel, so I will give you just this counsel. You are destined for great things, perhaps even the kingship of Gondor. However, you are young now and nowhere near as strong as you will be. Be careful who you choose to fight at this point. I ill-like saying this, but I am almost grateful to Morangmacar for not accepting your challenge."

Aragorn grunted. "That's what he said, albeit less gently. He threatened to box my ears if I took another step towards him. I can see the wisdom in your words, and his. I shall not challenge him again for a time. I wouldn't relish being boxed about the head by a beast with ham-sized fists."

Halbarad chose this moment to butt in. "Ham sized fists, _aran nin_? Surely, you must be mistaken. This beast's hands couldn't be that big if he has Orcish blood in him. Or perhaps he has a boar's blood and you confused the arms in his front legs with his fists." Halbarad winced along with Aragorn at his own very poor joke. "At any rate, we need to inform our kinsmen of the matter."

Estel smiled. "You have a point, cousin. We'd best get a notice off by pigeon to the closest outpost. Once we go that, we can get to work on our catches. I brought the largest stag to camp. That means you have work to do, cousin."

The smile grew wider at Halbarad's scowl. "But since I did not kill this one fair and square, I will help you. We'd best move them away from the camp and get to work. Elladan's nose doesn't take the smell of blood well." Well, that was patently untrue but it made a nice barb. And anyway, Elladan's sense of smell was a little sensitive.

At any rate, the taunt worked. It got an "Oi!" out of Elladan and the waving of a good-natured fist.

The Elf would have said and perhaps done more, but Elrohir was dragging him back to the chess-board again. While the two were almost identical, Elrohir was the sturdier of the two and so Elladan had little choice but to go along with peaceably with his twin.

Elrond took a moment to hover over Aragorn and Halbarad, watching first their work with the pigeon and then their handling of the skinning blades. Satisfied that they were doing well enough, he turned to go back to his oil lamp and his book when a sudden thought struck him. He made a bee-line for the twins and sat down to watch them play.

Elrohir paused in his rapt study of the board to look at his father and grin. "I have him where I want him, _adar_. Would you care to play a match against the winner?"

"Perhaps I would, but I have a more pressing question. Are either of you going to tell him about the 'Curse of the Morangmacar'?"

Both twins stopped playing and grimaced. They had never experienced it firsthand, but they had seen friends endure it and come out tired, frustrated, and craving a good, solid mug of beer. Should they warn Estel?

Elladan shook his head. "No, _ada_. There are some things one must learn for oneself. The curse, while aggravating, is hardly important enough for us to warn him of it." He stroked his chin and moved his queen forward on the board.

The peredhel nodded. "I thought you might say that and I do agree with you. Estel is growing up, my sons, and must be free to endure the consequences of his actions. Speaking of consequences, that move was a bad one. Ah no, you annot take it back. You've already moved your hand from the piece, you must take your lumps and smile."

The only one who smiled when Elrohir took Elladan's queen with his rook was Elrohir himself. Elrond nodded in approval, keeping his face otherwise blank. He'd learned long ago that giving more than a little praise to one of the twins was enough to bring up claims of favoritism. This held true to this very day. As for Elladan, he gritted his teeth, but said nothing.

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**Rivendell, 2-3 days later**

Rivendell was a welcome sight for the tired son of Arathorn. Or rather, he was more than tired. He'd foolishly accepted a challenge from Elladan for a race over the last fifteen miles to Imladris. He gave it his all, but the Noldo kept infuriatingly ahead of him all through the run. His sides hurt, and his lungs were burning, and his last reserves of strength were spent.

Any other time, he would have refused Elrohir's offer of help. He loved the Noldo dearly, but he wasn't a child anymore. He was a man, and should show it. At the moment, though, he didn't feel like asserting that independence. He was dead tired, and he let the brawnier twin help him through the door, up the stairs, and to his bedchamber. He was out like a light the moment his head hit the pillow.

The morning brought the family back around the table for a hearty meal of eggs and the choice cuts of the deer they'd shot over the trip. The rest was sitting in a deep hole in the ground close to the Bruinen, where it would keep fresh for at least another day or so. They'd have to salt or smoke it later, of course.

At any rate, it was a delicious breakfast, but Estel wondered why Elladan and Elrohir were giving each other sly grins. It was a question he didn't get an answer to until later in the day, and the answer didn't come at all from his brothers.

It was around midday when he saw a tall, lean figure hurrying up the cobblestone path to the House of Elrond. It was Dinennaur, daughter of Tologtirith, (Aragorn privately prided himself on his ability to remember names and faces), perhaps one of two or three women who were permitted to fight alongside the men of Rivendell.

According to Elladan, she was given this permission only because three of her male cousins, her elder brother, and both her uncles had died at Dagorlad and her mother and father didn't have any male children until the middle of this age. The permission was entirely practical, given in the interests of keeping the numbers of fighting Noldor high enough to keep Imaldris safe and help the Rangers keep watch over the north.

"All that said." Elladan had noted. "She is a good enough spearman and knows something of the healer's art. What she knows is nowhere near as much as the best healers, but it's enough to help her unit. She pulls her weight, has earned her rank, and has served us well. That is all that needs to be said on the topic."

Tologtirith was for his part a blacksmith and a silversmith, and normally had all his children running deliveries for him when they weren't otherwise occupied. Dinennaur and her deliveries were a common enough sight in the house proper. What disconcerted Estel was that she made a bee-line straight for him.

She looked the same as she always did: dressed in simple green clothing, with her brown hair pulled into an austere bun and a pouch hanging off her right hip. "_Mae govannen, _Estel Elrondion."

Aragorn gave her a short bow. "_Mae govannen_, Dinennaur. What brings you to our house?"

"Tis just a silver tray. Lord Elrond commissioned a serving tray for the Yule haunch. If you'd like, I could show it to you." She unwrapped the large tray and handed it to the Dunedan. "The work is beautiful, and it makes me ashamed that my hands haven't the skill of my _ada_."

Beautiful indeed. The silver tray was finely beaten out, and beautifully engraved and embossed to show a scene of a great elk in surrounded by what looked like pine trees. The filigree along the edges was understated, but very elegant. To Aragorn, it was a very fine piece but it needed a steaming, flavorful venison haunch on it to complete its path to perfection.

"Yes, very elegant. I am sure my _adar _will be glad for it. Has he paid for it already?"

"Yes, in part. Our arrangement with the _aran _is third of the price is due at comission, and two thirds at delivery." She didn't add that they further lowered the price for Elrond's house. It seemed hardly right to charge the Lord of Rivendell full price for anything made in the valley he protected.

She shifted her weight and ran her hand across her forehead. "I heard tell that you encountered Morangmacar a few days ago."

Aragorn blinked. "News travels quickly here in Rivendell. Who did you hear this from?"

"I believe it was my Lord Elladan, or Lord Elrohir...." Dinenaur groaned softly. "I am sorry, Estel, they are still too similar for my eyes to tell the difference between them."

"Indeed. It took me some time to be able to tell them apart, and I have lived with them for what most men would call no small amount of time. As for Morangmacar, yes, I did see him. Why do you ask?"

"Why do I ask? Because he and I have traded blows and scars hundreds of years, and he is the closest thing I have ever had to a mortal enemy. He has beaten or fought me to a draw every time, which is no small humiliation for me. The score between us has to be evened. Besides all that, he disturbs the peace of Imladris. My duties occupied me here more and more as the years went on, and that drew him to our refuge. That makes him my concern. I had hoped you had some knowledge of where he was going."

The Dunedain nodded. "I understand, but I'm afraid I have no idea where he is at the moment, and he didn't see fit to tell me where he was going. There is good chance he headed further west into Eriador, but that is only a guess on my part."

The _elleth_'s face fell. "You are sure of that? Are you sure he said nothing at all about where he was going? Did he give any idea of his intentions in Eriador?"

Aragorn fought to keep his eyebrows from rising. "No and no, he did not. All he said was that he wanted to get shut of my camp before I told _ada_ and my brothers that he was in the area."

"Hmmm. He's become more cunning, then. The good news is that your meeting him likely frightened him off from any attack on our people. He'd be a fool to try anything now that we are on the alert, and he is no fool." She took the tray back fron the Dunedan "Well, I suppose I'd best deliver this to lord Elrond."

She started up the steps to the door of Elrond's house, only to stop and suddenly turn about. "Are you completely sure that he said absolutely nothing about his plans?" Aragorn's eyebrows did rise this time, and he mutely shook his head. Dinennaur's face darkened further and the corners of her lips pulled sharply downwards. It might've just been his imagination, but Aragorn thought he saw bitter disappointment writ large on her face. "Ah, I see. Thank you for your time." The tall figure darted up the steps and through the door.

Estel stood there, weighing his options before turning and heading back up the steps behind the _elleth_. He was going to have a little talk with Elladan and Elrohir.

**AN: Okay, I am really sorry about all the exposition. I had to fit a lot of this in because not everyone will read the Wilds of Eriador and the two OCs in question here are rather bizarre and need some explaining. **

**As for the curse of Morangmacar, as you can tell, it's that Dinnenaur will chase after whoever has seen him and pester them with questions. Dinennaur is really sort of OCD about Claideb, I'm afraid. I think it's all the times the two have clashed and all the times she's lost or stalemated to him. That many failures would be a blow to anyone's professional pride, and in this case I think she's let it warp her attitude towards the creature. Like all my OCs except Eofor, she is just barely on the right side of sanity. **

**I also wanted to write some of the canon characters reaction to her as believable. Elrohir and Elladan could likely respect someone who pulled their own weight, but I'd imagine her badgering them and others about Morangmacar would be more than a little annoying.**

**I also changed Estel carrying the stag to dragging it, because as MiniFruitBat pointed out, Estel carrying a huge stag around is more than a little ludicrous. **


End file.
